Manners
by Screaming Faeries
Summary: Shizuo was really, really angry. T.


_You bring the ropes and chains, I'll bring the pills and games_

_I can show you pain, and make you say my name._

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Shizuo's head was a whirlwind, a hurricane, a complete disaster of stress.

He'd never felt so angry, like he did these days. Violence wasn't his thing, he didn't like it, but the urge to overthrow passing cars from their peaceful, steady journey's, just for the sake of relieving some tension...

Tension. He needed to get rid of some tension, before he went crazy. These past few weeks, he was always snarling, fists clenching, punching people that so much as gave him a "funny look", kicking over trash cans and vending machines and anything else that was just in his way. People were starting to hold a dislike for him that could rival how they felt for Izaya.

Izaya...

There were so many things that were just..._stressing him out_. Worrying about Celty, his best friend, her fear of the traffic cops, where her head might be and who might have it (and he would definitely kill that person), her love for the underground doctor. Making sure that Shinra was treating her _right_, which was unavoidable, as Shinra practically worshipped Celty. Kida, Mikado, and the girl, Anri. There was something circling them, something weird, something to do with a colour gang, an invisible gang, and the red-eyed slasher. The Yellow Scarves, the Blue Square, the _Dollars_. His fucking phone, which just kept _beep-beep-beeping_, always something stupid from this ridiculous group that he wished he'd never joined. The attacks on random students of the Academy. He hated not knowing just _who _exactly thought they could beat up kids in this town, and get away with it. Hell, if he could just find some of them, even _one _of them, they'd be flying halfway to Okinawa by now. That burly boy, Yagami, who fell in love with Celty's head; he only annoyed Shizuo, because he'd _seen _and practically grown up with that head, the head that Celty so badly wanted to regain possession of. Yagami led Shizuo on to Nemie, or Namie, his older sister, who was working for...

Ugh.

The middle, the center of all of Shizuo's stress. Izaya.

How he hated Izaya. Hated him so, so much. It was such an intense feeling, that somewhere deep in his tummy, Shizuo wasn't even sure it was _hate _any more. He'd never admit that out loud, of course. Izaya's face floated in and out of his mind constantly, that cocky mouth of his spewing slimy conversation. Hating Izaya was becoming a way of life, making sure that he saw him at least once a day was feeding this...this..._obsession_.

That had to be what it was, at the end of the day. He could admit it to himself. He was obsessed with Izaya. No one needed to know.

Pity, Izaya already _did_ know, as much as Shizuo tried to deny it to himself. Izaya was just too damn clever, always at least five steps ahead, always knew what was coming and what wasn't. He loved, relished in the complex that Shizuo seemed to have for him, and he played right into Izaya's hands, all the time. Curing his boredem. Shizuo knew all of this, but he couldn't keep away. It brought him back here again, to Izaya's building, which, like almost everything else, he hated. He shoved the front door open without knocking. "Izaya-kun," he drawled into the corridor. "Come out and play."

Yagami Namie stepped into the light from the library, her coat on, bag on her shoulder. He hated her just for being in the way. She blinked at Shizuo. "Heiwajima-san-" but he pushed past the useless woman as she was stooping into a customary bow, and threw open the study door. Izaya didn't turn away from the computer, which further irratated Shizuo, especially as he was smirking wildly, one hand under his chin, propping his head up, the other on the mouse. His legs were crossed under the desk in an annoyingly feminine way. "It's bad manners to burst right into someone's home without knocking, Shizu-chan," he sneered, not breaking eye-contact with the screen. "In fact, it could be classed as breaking and entering. If I wasn't on such bad terms with the police..." Shizuo snarled and grabbed the back of the chair that Izaya was seated, spinning him round so they were face to face. The Informant grinned up at Shizuo, unblinking scarlet eyes boring into his. "Come to kill me, Shizzy? Wonderful, I was just getting bored..."

"Don't call me that!" Izaya managed to catch the fist that was aiming for his face, his arm straining under the force of the punch. "Lucky you, I wasn't putting half as much effort into that as I could have done," he growled. Izaya let go of his hand, holding both of his own palms up in a mock surrender.

"You wouldn't have put the effort in anyway, Shizu-chan, because deep down..." Izaya slapped a hand into Shizuo's stomach, keeping their eyes locked together. "You don't really want to kill me."

"Don't touch me."

"Why not?"

"I don't want you to."

"That's not true."

"Yes it is."

"So why haven't you pushed my hand away yet?"

Shizuo didn't answer, struggling to come up with something intelligent. He slammed both his hands down on the plastic arms of the desk chair, ensnaring Izaya between himself and the table. If Izaya would wipe that _damn _smirk of his face, and look at least a tiny bit confused or worried, Shizuo would believe that he had Izaya trapped. It was the sickly, winning look on his face that made Shizuo feel like he was doing just, exactly what Izaya wanted him to do. His red eyes shimmered playfully, so deep and intense, that Shizuo couldn't even pull his gaze away when Namie coughed loudly, to get their attention. Izaya didn't break the stare, but acknowledged her presence in an irratated tone. "What do you want? Can't you see I'm entertaining guests?"

If it wasn't for the uncomfortably compromising position he was freeze-framed into with the person he hated the most, Shizuo would have laughed.

"Ah, Izaya-san, I was just-"

"What, Namie-san?"

Shizuo could almost sense Namie becoming more and more nervous. What he knew of the elder Yagami sibling could have barely filled a postage stamp, but he knew she was a lot more headstrong than most women. Izaya rarely, if ever lost his temper, so it was an excuse to make anyone feel uncomfortable.

"I was just, well, I think i'm going to-"

"Get out!" Izaya's eyes were glowing with something new, _lust_. Shizuo swallowed loudly, and felt something below his stomach twitch.

"Yes," there was a shuffling noise from behind Shizuo. "I'm leaving now, so I'll shut the-"

Izaya moved so fast that Shizuo barely even noticed it, until something that looked rather like the pot pencil holder that had been sitting neatly on the desk was hurling past his ear. Namie only just shut the door in time, as a satisfying _crash _echoed around the study as the pot smashed against the door. Shizuo gazed intently down at Izaya, determined not to lose this staring competition. "I'm done with playing like middle-schooler, Shizzy, lets get some big-kid toys..." He began rooting his hand through his pocket, until he discovered something tiny, white and circular. He snapped the pill in half with nimble fingers. "Open." Shizuo dutifully opened his mouth, and Izaya placed one small segment onto his tongue, the other on his own. Before Shizuo could close his mouth again and swallow the drug, Izaya's lips were crashing against his. The foreign tongue that invaded his mouth pushed the pill down his throat, and after that, Shizuo was beginning to see stars.

After that, nothing made sense. Shizuo's head spun and spun and spun, it was like one of his many dreams, or nightmares, where he'd touched himself in his sleep and woken up, screaming Izaya's name. The confusion had been so much for him those fair and few times, that he'd mostly broken down into unmasculine tears and sobbed into his pillow. All he could see was Izaya, smirking, sneering, snarling Izaya, those eyes never leaving him, his tongue and hands all over him, under his shirt, his waistband, in his hair, his ears, his neck. He hated how Izaya always managed to control him so easily, with sly words and silent gestures. He wanted to _injure _the bastard, right then and there, but he felt too good, so intense. Wanted to hurt him, just a bit, to show him that Izaya wasn't always in control, but he felt too good, so warm. He wanted to _kill _him, finally have him good and gone, but he _felt too good_, so _rich_.

It was a while before the drug allowed Shizuo to realise the tables had turned; he was sitting in the chair and Izaya was in his lap, arms around his neck, tongue in his ear. He was whispering lurid, dirty ministrations, things that would make a whore blush. It disgusted Shizuo, but his pants only got tighter. "Say my name," Izaya hissed gently, hands running down the expanse of Shizuo's chest (when did his shirt vanish?) his teeth nipping at his earlobe softly. "Say my name." Shizuo would rather have hit him right then, but he was so hot, and the skin on skin, the sweat on sweat, just made him obey Izaya even more dutifully.

"Izaya," he murmured. "Izaya."

"Louder!"

"Izaya..._Izaya_...Izaya!"

"Don't forget your manners," Izaya sniggered back. "Knock next time."

Cursing the world, Shizuo felt himself riding into oblivion.


End file.
